


Too Many Monsters

by vulpixal



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-09-28 20:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17189852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpixal/pseuds/vulpixal
Summary: hi this is a draft





	Too Many Monsters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ok so I only posted this cuz I don't want the draft to delete but if you people like it then ill post more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im trash and so is this but they aren't and I tried

Jesper Fahey _loved_ nights like this. The lights were dim, bodies were dancing everywhere, alcohol was wafting through air, and no one could hear any screams over the booming music and cheering crowd. The man slumped to the ground when Jesper finished sucking him dry in the alley, and he turned to the girl still shaking on the ground. Her shirt had been torn open, so she was desperately trying to cover herself and not cry at the same time.

 

 

Jesper merely gave her a dull look, and gestured to the exit of the alleyway with his head. "If anyone finds out about this, I'll find you and suck every drop of blood from your body. Understood?" She frantically nodded, and then scrambled to her feet. The smack of her heels on the pavement eventually faded from earshot, and Jesper wiped his mouth with his sleeve, which was black for this very purpose.

 

 

The back door to the pub swung open, and Kaz popped his head out. "Jesper," he called, and the man turned around to look at his friend. "Hurry up and hide the body. People are starting to leave." He walked back inside without another word. Jesper grabbed the carcass and easily lifted him onto his shoulder. He leapt onto the roof of the building, and then continued from roof to roof, until he found himself on the riverbank.

 

 

He wasted no time in throwing the body into the ravine, and wiping his bloodied hands on his pants. By the time he returned to the pub, it was clear of any party-goers, and Kaz didn't so much as look up as Jesper walked inside. "How was your dinner?" He asked, and Jesper shrugged. "Just like all the others. Too fatty, too dirty, and very bland." 

 

 

Nina laughed from the bar, and twirled her wand. A shot glass flew out from a shelf and Jesper caught it swiftly. He watched with satisfaction as vodka seemed to materialize out of no where and fill it to the rim. "Maybe next time." She said, tucking her wand back into her waistband. Kaz shook his head and cleaned a beer mug as he said, "Don't give him false hope. They're humans, none of them taste good." She seemed to agree and took another sip from her wine bottle.

 

 

Jesper ignored the burning in his throat and slammed the glass onto the bar. "I wish I could catch something with flavor!" Nina giggled. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're not allowed to drink from me." He nodded in acknowledgement, and the look Kaz shot his way told him the same thing. 

 

 

Nina was a witch, and though they may have the bodies of humans, the magic flowing through their bodies gives them spice. Kaz was a reaper, and no vampire had ever dared to drink from a reaper, and Jesper highly doubted he would be the first. 

 

 

"You should try the Evergreen District. Rich people outta taste way better than these drug addicts and alcoholics." She suggested, and Jesper shook his head. "That's a myth. Money actually makes humans taste worse; all that greed makes them bitter." She shrugged, and replied, "Well I'm out of ideas. Maybe Inej will let you have sip?" She shot a look at Kaz, who stiffened, but immediately relaxed. She inwardly smirked as Jesper groaned. "Asking Inej for a sip is the same as asking Matthias to suck my dick."

 

 

Nina snorted, and said, "He is quite a prude, but when he's drunk he's very open-minded." Jesper shook his head. "That poor werewolf..." 

 

 

The witch shrugged, as if asking, 'what do you expect of me?', and swung her legs around. "Well, it's been great boys. But I have to go, Matthias gets antsy when I'm not home before midnight." Jesper waved, and Kaz nodded. They listened to the door swing open and shut. "Being immortal really blows." Jesper mumbled, and Kaz scoffed as he finished wiping the last glass. 

 

 

"You've been immortal for fifty years and you've already grown tired of it? Pathetic." Jesper threw the shot glass at his black haired bartender, and Kaz caught it without looking. "Shut the hell up. You have an important job, I just walk around sucking people's blood." He said, and looked at the wooden ceiling. 

 

 

"If you're so sick of the people in this town, then go to Ravka. There are witches everywhere, I'm sure there's someone weak enough for you to drink from." Jesper shrugged, and then said, "Nina would shove a frog down my throat if I ever did that. I can't eat from werewolves either cause she'd make me shit a cactus, I can't drink from a succubus because Inej would probably rip my head off of my body, and I can't drink from a reaper because you're the only reaper I've ever met-"

 

 

"And I'd drag your ass into hell and leave you there. So? There are nymphs, sprites, griffins-" Jesper slammed his fists on the table. "Do you really think I could catch a naiad?! She'd just turn into water and slip from my fingers! The sprites are too small to make me full, and griffins are griffins! Let's face it, nothing will ever taste good!" He slammed his head on the table, and Kaz sighed.

 

 

"You know, Nina was right. All you ever eat are pigs from the Barrell. Maybe if you tried someone with... a 'kinder' heart..." He trailed, and Jesper looked up at him through his crossed arms. "Kaz, you know-"

 

 

"How you feel? Yes, I do know, and it's quite a drag. Humans have limited lifespans anyway, you're just merely making it end a little faster. And they'll die doing something good: feeding you." Jesper groaned. "I'm not feasting on a sweet little old grandma. Or an innocent little kid. Or-"

 

 

"It was merely a suggestion." Kaz said, and walked into the back. Jesper watched the door swing wildly until eventually stopping, and looked at a lamp on the wall. he wasn't hungry right now, but the pit in his stomach was always there, and no matter how much blood he consumed, he could never fill it.

 

 

_Maybe Kaz is right._ He thought, and shook his head. _Too much thinking, not enough drinking._ He finally decided, and climbed over the bar to drink straight from the vodka bottle.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Wylan hated nights like this. Everything was too quiet, the servants had all gone home for the day, the cold had settled into his room for the night, and his eyes were starting to water out of sheer frustration. The squiggles on the page still didn't make sense, even though he had stared at them for almost two hours now, and he had half a mind to give up. But his father had been very clear: _"You are not to leave this room until you can tell me exactly what is on this paper. No food, no water, no nothing until then."_

 

 

So he sat there at his desk for hours, all alone, and continued to strain his eyes, praying to Ghezen that the words would suddenly become coherent, and he could run to his father with pride, to tell him he could finally read and everything between them would be repaired. But the longer he stared at the words, the more confusing they became, and Wylan's heart was further filled with dread.

 

 

His father had normally threatened him with hypnosis, beatings, mental institutions, but never with something that could kill him. He knew his father hadn't been lying about depriving him of basic human needs, he just wished he had eaten something prior to this.

 

 

He ignored the growling of his stomach and turned back to the page, a migraine growing at the fruitlessness of this task. _It's no use._ He decided, and furiously swept the page off the birch desk. He looked around at his room, and felt despair burrowing deep into his heart. The furniture was a bland gray, with white sprinkled here and there. Nothing inside signified that someone lived here, it was just as boring and empty as their many guest rooms. His father had designed it this way after he found out about Wylan's "disability".

 

 

He didn't want any distractions for Wylan, so he ordered that the entire room be devoid of color. He stood from his desk and quietly made his way to his bed, where he threw himself down and hid his sobs in his pillows. 

 

 

He hated this room. He hated this house, hated his father, hated his life. And he absolutely despised nights like this. The only sound was the distant ruckus the Barrel was stirring up for the night, and other than that, the house was silent save for the occasional creak. It just served as a reminder that he was alone, and he will remain so until he can do something so simple a five year old could do it. 

 

 

When he ran out of tears, he stood up and sat in his bay window. The cushions were gray with white pillows, and the window itself was always locked. So Wylan could only stare outside and look upon this city known as Ketterdam. The neighboring houses were just as grand and luxurious with perfectly tended lawns and iron gates. But the houses in the distance were made of half rotten wood, smelled of alcohol and industrial factories, the people were dirty and starving, and the people beside him and in his house lived off of their misery.

 

 

It made Wylan sick to his stomach; the ever pressing thought that the luxuries he reveled in were the result of someone else's suffering. He wanted nothing more than to escape it. All of it. 

 

 

He looked up at the sky, and prayed for something. He wasn't sure what, just that he needed it more than ever. Because one day, his window would be unlocked, and the drop would be all too tempting. Speaking of which, he pressed his fingers against it with a sigh, and almost cried out in surprise as the glass moved.

 

 

He ripped his fingers away, as if expecting the window to fall from its place. But it merely swung open, and his curls swished in the night air that flew into his room. He looked back at the sky, and realized how foolish his hope was, and reached for the window. He thought to close it and lock it, but something stopped him. A tug, an urge, a dare. He didn't know what to name it, but it kept his hand from locking the window shut.

 

 

Then, thoughts he didn't know he was capable of forming began swimming through his head. _I'll shut it and pretend it's locked for the day, and then, tomorrow night, I can grab provisions from the kitchen, some money, and we leave._

 

 

His eyes widened at the prospect. Free from his father, who wanted nothing more than to get rid of him... it was almost too good to be true. He would no doubt try to find him, or at least make of show of trying, and then he might blame some Barrel thugs and mourn him for a day. Then, his attention would go back to his new wife, who would most certainly bear him a newer, better child soon.  

 

 

_Maybe_... Wylan looked back at his room. The room he had spent years crying in, the room he had been locked inside at least a hundred times, the room he sat in for a week while he mourned his mother's death alone, the room where he had first received a beating from his father, and the room where his father had first realized he couldn't read. He looked back at it, but he didn't see a cage. He saw an opportunity, and if he gave it up, he might as well kill himself right now and be done with it.

 

 

So he closed the window, and crumpled up the paper on his desk. He wouldn't need to read anything again anytime soon, and he had plans to prepare for.


End file.
